


Nwalin Week 2020 - No Cops Nwalin Week

by Thorinsmut



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Nwalin Week 2020, no cops nwalin week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25555204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: ficlets for nwalin week 2020Mon-Tues: Danger or ProtectionWed-Thurs: Ice or WoodFri-Sat: Tradition or Innovation
Relationships: Dwalin/Nori (Tolkien)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 65





	1. Protection

**Author's Note:**

> because it is partially my fault that Dwalin is so frequently portrayed as a fucking cop, and there should be more fic where he isn't

.

Nori hadn't expected to hook up at Frerin's house party, or he would have been ready. He'd thought he knew everyone who was going to be there, and didn't want any of them.

He didn't know that he hadn't met all of Frerin's cousins yet.

Dwalin was tall and broad, squeezed deliciously into a too-small t-shirt that declared him a member of the tech school’s lumbersports team. He would have been way too intimidating to risk approaching, great big jock that he was, if he hadn't also been wearing a bright rainbow wrist cuff and smiling shyly at the pretty boys.

And lucky Nori, he was the prettiest boy in attendance. Or, at least, the prettiest boy who knew how to get what he wanted. Some of the others flirted with their eyes and tried to get Dwalin to chase them. Nori took a more assertive tack.

"Hey there, beautiful," he introduced himself, breathless and hungry. "I'm Nori."

Dwalin blushed, and stumbled over his introduction, and ate Nori up with a spoon. Anyone who was jealous should have figured out for themselves that Dwalin was way too nervous to be the one doing the chasing. Dwalin followed Nori's lead – didn't touch him until Nori touched him first, didn't try to kiss him until Nori asked. One kiss became two, became many, and Dwalin looked longingly toward the stairs to the more private upper level, but didn't suggest they go up until Nori offered it as a possibility.

When they did get upstairs, Nori pushed Dwalin down onto a loveseat and climbed onto him. Dwalin gasped 'yes' against his mouth as they kissed, deeper and dirtier than they'd dared down in the main crush of the party. Dwalin's lips were full and soft, such contrast to the muscular strength of the rest of him.

Nori got his hands all over Dwalin, from the prickly shaved sides of his head down his thick neck and broad shoulders, his powerful chest and arms, the solid strength of his middle. Dwalin's big hands slipped up under Nori's shirt to stroke up and down his back. He moaned on Nori's tongue, arching and shuddering beneath him. Nori's head was spinning. He could feel the hard length of Dwalin's cock tucked into his jeans, and rubbed against it shamelessly.

It was in that moment, hungry and eager, that Nori remembered that he hadn't planned on hooking up. He didn't have a condom handy. "So," he purred, grinning down at Dwalin as he gave an extra little shimmy of his hips. "You got a condom on you?" He knew exactly how to make a request for protection into a sexy seduction.

Dwalin shook his head.

Nori huffed out a frustrated breath, and then gave Dwalin a little smile so he would know it wasn't _him_ Nori was upset at. He looked up and away, planning. Frerin would definitely have condoms, if Nori could track him down—and it might even be worth the eternity of teasing he'd be opening himself up to.

"No, don't." Dwalin cupped the side of Nori's face with one hand, turning it back toward him. "I just... I want." Dwalin leaned up, begging another kiss, and Nori gave in and sank happily back into it. Nothing in the world really seemed more urgent than keeping in physical contact. He wanted to stay stretched full length against Dwalin, to feel their bodies move with each other, to kiss.

Nori didn't think he'd _ever_ been so thoroughly kissed. They kissed until his mouth felt bruised, until his neck and shoulders ached from holding himself above Dwalin, and then he rolled off to the side of Dwalin and Dwalin followed to keep kissing and Nori was crushed half to death and happy beneath him.

The spirit was willing, but the body could only take so much. They had to break apart a bit, to get a drink or take a leak, or just because they couldn't sustain the kiss any longer—but they kept coming back. The house party went on, and Nori and Dwalin cuddled together chatting about their studies and their hobbies and their families, until one or the other of them started the kissing again.

Dwalin actually listened when Nori went on about his dissertation on historical textiles and modern fiber arts. Dwalin was studying architecture at the technical college. His knowledge was deeper than what Nori had picked up in his art studies, but they had enough common ground and shared taste to roast truly terrible design.

Hard-ons came and went. Nori thought he was sure to be chaffed from rubbing against the front of his pants, but the temptation of jerking a quick one out in the bathroom between makeout rounds didn't hold a candle to the pleasure of mutual lust with Dwalin.

Gods, but Nori was so horny he _ached_. It was in his bones, thrumming through his body until he shivered no matter where Dwalin touched him. It was almost embarrassing to respond so strongly to Dwalin tracing a fingertip around the shell of his ear, but then Dwalin grinned that crooked grin of his and followed it with his lips—cradling the nape of Nori's neck in his broad hand, breath hot in his ear, and Nori moaned louder than if he'd been getting a blowjob and did not care.

He didn't know if he'd ever felt so overwhelmed, even when he'd been a fumbling virgin. Not that he'd kept his virginity long after he figured out what he wanted (dick) and how to get it (ask nicely).

Nori felt like he was going to explode from frustration, and also like he could spend forever making out and talking with Dwalin. In reality, though, exhaustion won out. The party quieted as the early hours of the morning wore on. They kissed softer and slower, their words slowing and slurring, the pauses between growing longer and longer until they were asleep, wrapped up in each other and the scent of lust.

Nori woke up first in the late morning sun. He had a massive crick in his neck, and his chin stung from beard burn, but when he looked over at Dwalin's sleep-lax face something in his chest clenched. He was pinned under Dwalin's heavy arm, but the tender thump of his heart was what kept him in place.

He'd never imagined that making out would be so much more dangerous than fucking.

His tension or the change in his breathing must have woken Dwalin, because he slowly blinked his sparkling blue eyes open and yawned. He was affectionately petting Nori's chest before he even managed to get his gaze focused.

"G'morning," Dwalin rumbled down at Nori, his whole face crinkled up with the force of his smile. He looked much sillier than he did hot, but Nori's heart did a whole entire cartwheel, and he didn't care.

"Morning." Nori smiled back, thrilled, and made the choice to throw caution to the wind. Fuck it. There were worse fates than developing a crush on a cute jock from the tech school. "How about you and I raid Frerin's kitchen for gay brunch foods for our first date?"

Dwalin laughed, a warm chuckle, and blushed as he nodded.

.


	2. Wood

.

Wood was not one of the traditional materials of the Dwarves—not like stone, and metal. Coal was better fuel for fire, and even musical instruments that Men and Elves built of wood could be improved with the more durable materials.

Things changed after the fall of Erebor, when their people were forced out of the mountain and onto the surface. Dwalin was old enough to remember the splendors of the depths, and young enough to adapt quickly upon leaving them. Wood was plentiful and metal dear, on the surface. They made do with what they had, and learned quickly to build as safe and sturdy a shelter as _could_ be built outside of a mountain fastness.

It was a different life, and a hard one, Dwalin would never deny that, but no matter where they lived or what material they worked in his people were still Dwarves. They were crafters, builders, _artists_. Dwalin had learned to play on a jeweled viol that sang as sharp and clear as a bell, but there was beauty too in the warmer muted tones of a wooden viol, a wooden flute, a wooden harp, a wooden drum.

Master carvers who had honed their craft on stone turned their chisels and blades on the softer bodies of trees by necessity, mastered the strange properties of different woods, and created works of astonishing beauty. Dwalin saw a generation of Dwarves grow up who turned to wood first when they wished to build. Dwalin was old enough to remember when such had not been the case, but young enough that he saw no wrong in it. Art was art, and beauty was beauty, and to create was a good and a blessed thing. His people had been built strong to endure, yes, but also yielding enough to adapt.

Dwalin was old enough to remember the glories of Erebor, to ache to reclaim it and restore the glory of his people—but young enough that he welcomed the new skills of their years in exile.

Nori and Dwalin built their home in Erebor together, with their own hands and all their care. They built it of Erebor's good green stone, each piece fitted and set to perfection—but the mantlepiece above the hearth was a great tree—the story of their people's return carved into the wood in exquisite detail by the surviving members of the Company that was their family.

.


	3. Innovation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knew there were limits to what a shapechanger could do.

.

Everyone knew there were strict limits to what a shapechanger could do. A shapechanger could take on a single animal form in addition to their original form of either human, elf, or orc—never dwarf, of course. Dwarves were made to be unyielding and unchanging, steady as stone.

Dwalin knew the stories, and had studied the lore. A traditionally educated shapechanger was limited, and that was a comfort to many.

Dwalin reclined against his heavy pack of trade goods—fine silver work to hopefully be exchanged for enough furs to keep Thorin's folk warm through the coming winter. The sun was setting in molten gold and fire, and he smiled around the stem of his pipe as he spotted a magpie circling the camp.

The bird landed behind a nearby rock, and a sleek ermine bounded out to make for Dwalin in a gait as sinuous as flowing water. Dwalin reached an arm out, opening his cloak. The ermine disappeared in the fabric. There was a moment of strangeness, of twisting space, and there was a handsome dwarf beneath Dwalin's arm.

Dwalin gently knocked foreheads with Nori, nuzzling noses together, and only laughed when Nori promptly stole his pipe to take a lazy drag.

"Anything up ahead?" he asked.

Nori shook his head as he blew out a stream of smoke. "Road's clear. We should get to town tomorrow, and it looks like they've had a light season for trade. Lots of high-quality furs they haven't unloaded."

This news cheered the entire company of traders.

Dwalin shared a warm night with a handsome dwarf in his bedroll. He walked the next day with sometimes Nori walking at his side, and sometimes a magpie winging overhead. When they approached the outskirts of the human town, Nori the dwarf retired in a copse of trees, and a smallish Human man in hunter's leathers walked out. He was worn and weathered, with a look that hinted at a touch of elvish ancestry far in the past—the kind of person humans respected on instinct.

He went by the name of 'Alan', and shared a remarkable resemblance to a certain dwarf. With Alan taking the lead, the humans in the town were uncharacteristically generous in their trade negotiations with the dwarves who seemed to be his hirelings.

Alan took his leave as soon as the dwarven company was out of town, and Dwalin welcomed Nori back with a whoop and a hug that spun them both in a circle. The company called out their congratulations, and they all shared their stories and mocked the humans around the fire that night as they celebrated their successful venture. Gloin had traded for some liquor, on top of the furs they'd been after, and passed a bottle around to warm everyone's belly.

To borrow a human phrase, it was _bullshit_ that the human traders would be so much more honest in their dealings with someone they thought was human too—but it was bullshit Dwalin was more than happy to take advantage of. It wasn't like the trade deal hadn't been fair, and the town they'd left behind would never imagine that the trader they'd bargained with wasn't human.

Why should they, when everyone knew how shapechangers were limited, and that dwarves couldn't do it at all? Dwarves were meant to be as unchanging as stone, but that was such a shallow interpretation of stone. Any geologist worth their salt could tell you about weathering, about sedimentary stone, _metamorphic_ rock, and volcanic processes. Stone was malleable too, in its own way, and it was _Dwalin's_ chosen partner who had the flexibility of thought to be an innovative shapechanger so far beyond what the conventional wisdom and standard training dictated.

.


End file.
